


The Soldier and The Mechanic

by dapperanachronism



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky finds his place, Get Together, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism/pseuds/dapperanachronism
Summary: That is what was missing, Bucky thinks. This is the role that he needs to fill. Tony needs a handler, someone to look out for him while he’s looking out for everyone else. Maybe that’s the place Bucky is meant to be in.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petroltogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/gifts).



> A huge thanks to [Robin_tCJ ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ)and [Amonae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amonae/pseuds/Amonae) for the beta's.

Bucky attempts to stare the coffee pot into submission. He wants coffee -- he's _allowed_ coffee, these days. There are many things he enjoys about living in Stark Tower. The endless supply of coffee is at the top of the list at the moment. He also likes being around Steve. He's still getting used to everyone else — they're unknown variables. He doesn't know how he fits in with them, and hasn't decided how he feels about them yet. The tower itself is open and spacious. Comfortable. Bucky is still getting used to comfortable.

Everything he needs is at his fingertips.

But some days, the open floor plan with its floor-to-ceiling windows and kitchen that morphs into the living room make him feel exposed. There are too many open sight lines, too many exits to cover. Too many possible ambush avenues he can't account for.

He sets his jaw stubbornly, refusing to cower. He is a soldier. He is _the_ soldier. And this room is the room that has the coffee. He will wait for the coffee, because he _can_.

Still. He's on edge, waiting for it to brew so that he can take what he came for and retreat back to his own room, away from the open spaces and bright sunlight.

The sound of footsteps snap him into immediate defense mode — he’s not sure he’ll ever break that reflex — before he can think about what he’s doing. He turns to face the sound and drops to a fighting stance, ready to launch himself at the intruder–

“Whoa, hey there, relax a sec. It’s just me.” The mechanic, Bucky’s brain supplies. Threat level minimal. Slowly, Bucky eases, his posture relaxing, fists dropping back to his sides.

“Sorry,” he apologises, leaning back against the counter. He presents himself as though he’s calm but the tension never subsides completely. His eyes never stop tracking exits, tracking every micro movement that the room’s new occupant makes.

“No harm.” The mechanic — Tony — reaches past him, almost brushing against him. He grabs a mug from the cupboard, seemingly not the least bit concerned that he’s crowding into the space of a man who’d looked ready to punch him not thirty seconds before. “Ah, coffee’s done. Remind me to show you a french press sometime.” Bucky doesn’t have any idea what that means. He doesn’t ask, either. He _does_ watch with careful intrigue as Tony grabs the pot, fills both mugs, and passes one over to Bucky.

“Actually, since I’ve got you here,” Tony continues, “you might as well come downstairs. I’ve finished going over the scans of your arm and I think I’ve figured out how to tweak the movement interface and eliminate the lag you mentioned.”

Wordlessly, after only a moment’s hesitation, Bucky nods sharply, just once, and follows as Tony leads the way downstairs to the shop. Bucky likes it there. He’s spent a fair amount of time down here working with the mechanic in the weeks since he’s come to the tower. When Steve had first brought him in, his arm had been badly damaged from their fight on the helicarrier. Bucky had been able to do some basic maintenance on his own to make it a little more functional, but it still hurt him sometimes, and the control wasn’t great. He’s spent hours down here, letting the mechanic — _Tony_ , he kept reminding himself — take the arm apart and examine it with unconcealed delight. The whole time, Tony had kept asking Bucky questions about what he knew about the arm, how it worked, how it felt. When he wasn’t asking technical questions he was checking in to make sure Bucky was okay. The rest of the time he just kept… talking. At first Bucky didn’t understand what he was saying. But he quickly picked up on the fact that Tony was telling him about other projects, telling him stories about things he’d made, stories about the rest of the team. Eventually, Bucky had started asking question of his own, cautious, tentative. Tony was always forthcoming with information. Even now that Bucky was starting to settle in, he didn’t fully understand the dynamic between himself and the mechanic. He was... friendly. He talked to Bucky like a person, and not like a tool to be fixed. It was unlike his interactions with any of his mechanics in the past. Bucky liked him, he’d decided.

He sits back on the stool and watches carefully as Tony works, sliding off panels, talking to himself as he pokes around various connection points, occasionally asking Bucky to do things like wiggle his fingers, or flex his arm, and then cursing to himself when it apparently doesn’t yield the result that he was looking for. Watching Tony work, Bucky feels something settle in his chest, a feeling that was like something light and warm and a little protective. Steve and Sam both had been trying to get him to embrace feelings, to put words to them. It was apparently supposed to help, somehow. If he has to put a word to what he’s feeling right now, he’d call it fondness.

Tony is just putting the finishing touches on his work when Steve comes into the shop to join them. He waves and grabs a stool on the other side of Bucky while Tony snaps the last plate into place.

“There, give that a try,” he says, dropping the tiny screwdriver back on the workbench. Tentatively, Bucky wiggles his fingers, bends his elbow, rolls his shoulder to test the response. The difference is miniscule, but he can _feel_ it. His arm responds just that much quicker, that much more intuitively. The repairs Tony had done had been great before, but they’re amazing now. Bucky can’t help but smile tentatively.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” he says, watching the way that Tony’s face lights up at his words.

“We’re going to grab some food, Tony, you should come along,” Steve says, and Bucky glances over at him. They’d agreed to get lunch, but as he’d discovered over coffee that morning, today was not one of the days that he was thrilled at the idea of going outside or putting himself somewhere exposed. Steve seems to pick up on the hesitation and quickly adds, “just to the café around the corner, yeah?”

Fine, he can do that. The café is familiar, with decent sightlines, two easy-to-cover exits, and he has the biggest soft spot for their soup and the little turnover pastry things. Dammit, Steve _knows_ that, too, which was probably why he’d suggested it — because Bucky won’t say no. It’s a nice place, but it would be nicer still if Tony were to come along.

But Tony waves off the invitation. “Another time, Cap, I’ve got other stuff to finish. You have fun,” he says, throwing open another project file. Not sure of what else to say, Bucky follows as Steve heads back to the elevator. The door closes, and Steve leans back against the wall and sighs. Bucky looks over at him quizzically.

“It’s nothing,” Steve says with a shrug. “Sometimes I just worry about Tony, that’s all. He’ll lose himself in work, especially the stuff that he does for the team. Sometimes I just wonder if he’s taking care of himself as well as he’s taking care of us. But, he seems to really get along with you, so that’s great to see. I’m glad for you, Buck.”

The elevator door opens and Steve steps out, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder in one of the gentle shows of affection that Bucky has come to like. Bucky follows after him, the pieces of the puzzle sliding into place in his head. That is what was missing, the role that he needs to fill. Tony needs a handler, someone to look out for him while he’s looking out for everyone else. _That’s_ the place Bucky is meant to be in.

* * *

Bucky realises quickly that he doesn’t actually know enough about the mechanic. It’s difficult to be Tony’s handler when he doesn’t actually know Tony — it limits his ability to do his job effectively, and Bucky won’t stand for that. It’s just like any other op; step one is gathering intel, observation, understanding his target — or in this case, his charge. Tony, however, makes this frustratingly difficult. He’s not secretive, per se, but now that Bucky is paying attention — _really_ paying attention — it’s obvious how skilled Tony is at deflection. He’s so good that Bucky is fairly convinced that Tony doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, a sure sign that this particular trait has become ingrained over years of necessity. Bucky has a few of his own like that, the way that he tracks every exit in a location, the way he’s aware of every single person in a room, every move that they make. He recognises those traits for what they are, as being necessary for survival. From what Steve has told Bucky of Tony’s history, it makes sense that deflection became imperative to coping.

Still, it makes it makes it more difficult to conduct recon on his charge. Luckily, Bucky has plenty of time, and he’s nothing if not devoted to his mission. It’s easy in the beginning. Tony doesn’t really have much of a routine as such — he sleeps at sporadic times, he eats at random intervals, but generally he keeps to the same locations. The penthouse, the common floor, the shop, the lower corporate part of the tower if Ms. Potts makes him attend meetings. Tony doesn’t seem to like those meetings very much. On six occasions in the last two and a half days, Tony has complained about board meetings and shareholder meetings. He always returns from those meetings in a sour mood, his tie askew and the corner of his mouth turned down in a hint of a frown. Bucky doesn’t like it when Tony frowns. The frowns are usually followed by Tony retreating to his shop and not leaving again for an average of 6.4 hours. Bucky had scoped out the shop when Tony had been working on his arm — the threats and the exits. Always the exits. There’s a small fridge down there. A coffee maker. A blender. But Tony doesn’t seem to keep much by way of real food down there. Which means that when Tony retreats down to his shop after a meeting, he doesn’t eat for an average of 6.4 hours. Bucky doesn’t like the frowns, because the frowns mean Tony is less likely to eat and less likely to sleep.

It’s the first problem that Bucky needs to solve. After he had witnessed exactly one fight between Steve and Tony, post mission, he’d figured out that Tony is contrary. Telling him directly to do something is a sure fire way to make sure it never happens. The solution presents itself to himself by accident one day. He’s prowling around the tower, restless, moody. Tony is working in the shop. Bucky wants to check on him — he hasn’t seen Tony at all since the day before — but as soon as he goes down there, JARVIS will alert Tony. Bucky likes JARVIS, he really does. The AI is very helpful. He answers questions, he wakes Bucky up from nightmares, he calmly talks to Bucky when he’s disassociating — tells Bucky the date, the time, the weather, that he’s safe in New York. But Bucky had asked him once if he would mind not alerting Tony if Bucky were to sneak down to the shop, just to peer through the glass and make sure Tony was okay. JARVIS had told him firmly that it was against his protocols. Apparently Tony insisted on being told whenever anyone approached the shop. It’s good tactical security, which makes Bucky smile, but it makes it difficult to keep tabs on his charge. He suspects Tony might not like his handler hovering too obviously.

Bucky is still pacing, brow furrowed, shoulders hunched, when Tony wanders back into the common area, heads straight for the kitchen and the coffee maker. Bucky pauses, stares at Tony and feels the tightness in his chest easing. Tony appears tired — slightly — but otherwise is in good condition. He’s humming to himself. He only does that when he’s in a good mood. Bucky likes the sound — it’s soft and low and calming. Tony looks up, sees Bucky standing there and immediately abandons the coffee pot.

“Hey Buckaroo, come here a second?” Tony calls to him, Bucky blinks in surprise but he carefully makes his way over to the counter. Tony flicks on the kettle, turns on the coffee grinder, reaches into the back of one cupboard and pulls out a strange glass container. Bucky watches curiously, unsure of what Tony is holding in his hand.

“I said I’d show you a french press sometime,” Tony said by way of explanation. It doesn’t leave Bucky any more enlightened about what Tony is doing, but he is content to wait. Tony is still humming to himself as he dumps the coffee grounds into the glass container. Bucky watches intently as he pours in the hot water, puts the lid on with a skinny metal bit sticking out of the top. Bucky frowns, but Tony smiles knowingly. Finally, after five agonizingly long and uncertain minutes, Tony slowly presses the plunger, pours two cups and passes one over to Bucky. Bucky sniffs it suspiciously. It’s still coffee, but he doesn’t understand why it’s different, why it’s special. Until he takes his first sip. His eyes widen as the coffee rolls over his tongue, the flavour strong and rich. The difference is subtle, but it’s there. And it’s _amazing._ He takes another eager sip, and Tony laughs. It’s warm and pure. Bucky thinks he might like the sound of Tony laughing even more than the sound of his humming. He likes when Tony is happy, it means he’s doing his job well, and it makes his chest feel warm.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Tony says, and Bucky quickly nods in a agreement. “It’s fussier to make than the regular drip machine and doesn’t make near as much in one go. But, you know. You needed to experience the good stuff.” Tony shrugs, and Bucky holds his mug tightly, wrapping both hands around it. A tentative smile plays at his lips. Bucky agrees. The endless supply of coffee is still one of his favourite things about the tower. He suspects that somehow, Tony has picked up on that. Bucky suspects JARVIS might have something to do with that.

“It’s really good,” Bucky agrees. A hint of pink creeps into Tony’s cheeks and Tony’s face shifts subtly. It’s the same hint of an expression that was on Tony’s face when Bucky had complemented the arm. Interesting. Bucky files that piece of information away for future consideration.

“You looked bored up here,” Tony said quickly, changing the subject. “You know, any time you wanna come down to the shop and just... I dunno, hang out. Or say hi. Or whatever. You can. You don’t need to wait for the arm stuff.”

Bucky cocks his head slightly. Tony is nearly tripping over his words. He doesn’t normally do that. Perhaps something is wrong — but Tony seems happy, so that doesn’t make sense. Bucky is going to need to think about this more to make sense of it. But for now, he has a solution to his problem.

* * *

The first thing Bucky does with his new workshop access is bring Tony lunch and coffee. He makes the coffee in the press, carefully repeating the steps he had seen Tony demonstrate, and he brings his own lunch down as well so Tony doesn’t suspect him of hovering. Tony grins and waves him inside. He doesn’t leave the shop for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

It’s easier to fall into a routine after that — as much as Tony allows for routine, anyway. He still sleeps at strange times, eats at random intervals, but at least Bucky can keep a closer eye on him. He’s spending far more time down in the shop now — turns out he really likes it down here. It might be one of his favourite places in the tower. Bucky likes playing with the robots. He likes watching Tony work. He likes laying on Tony’s couch and reading, or poking at his tablet.

Steve comments on it one day. He says he’s glad that Bucky seems to be finding his place, that Bucky seems to be getting along with the team. He tells Bucky that Tony is better with him around. Bucky beams with pride. He’s doing his job well. And if it happens that he likes spending time with Tony, and likes being in the shop where he feels more relaxed, well, that just makes his job easier.

Which isn’t to say that it’s easy all the time.

Bucky is quickly growing to hate Tony’s meetings even more. Recently, he’s had a lot more of them than normal. Every time that he comes back home, he looks increasingly tired, increasingly frustrated. In the past ten days, the average time Tony has spent in the shop after a meeting has skyrocketed to an average of 8.14 hours. Which means he’s often down there late into the night. Bucky is trying coax him out of the shop — has been trying all evening — but Tony isn't budging. The hours tick by and Tony's shoulders continue to hunch a little more. His eyes are duller now, they've lost the mischievous sparkle that Bucky loves, that tells Bucky his charge is okay. Bucky is trying to be subtle about his suggestions — Tony doesn't respond well to being told what to do — but Tony isn't picking up on the hints. Either that, or he's deliberately ignoring Bucky. In either case, Bucky is growing increasingly frustrated. Tony's eyes are drooping. His hands are slow. He's fumbling his tools, so he quits that and open up project files, manipulating the projections without his usual finesse. He's not actually making progress — Bucky’s been down here often enough to be able to get a feel for how Tony works. Tony is just messing now, just being stubborn because he doesn't want to give in to sleep, or maybe to his own mind. Bucky can relate to that. It doesn't make it any less frustrating.

The second time Tony nearly nods off, eyes drooping and body slumping in his chair, Bucky loses it.

“You need sleep,” he snaps, his sharp voice jarring in the quiet space. Tony sits upright again, blinks, stares at Bucky with bleary eyes. Bucky's chest tightens. Tony doesn't respond well to being told what to do. Bucky has made a mistake, he's mishandled his charge, the chances of them fighting are rising exponentially as Tony opens his mouth to speak and–

“You're probably right,” Tony shrugs, pauses, waves his hand to close down his work. His shoulders are slumped, he's leaning so far forward that Bucky fears Tony might pitch himself off his chair. Three quick steps and he's at Tony's side, hand resting on Tony's shoulder to steady him. It's fifty-fifty whether Tony will shrug his hand off or allow the support.

Bucky isn't willing to bet one way or another, Tony has already surprised him once tonight. Briefly, Bucky considers whether this means he doesn't know his charge as well as he should. He shelves the thought for later. Right now he needs to worry about the way that Tony leans against Bucky's palm on his shoulder as he gets to his feet. Tony looks back over his shoulder as he shuffles towards the elevator, and Bucky follows without a word. They’re silent on the short ride up to the penthouse. Tony slumps against him, his head resting against Bucky’s shoulder. The warm feeling returns to his chest — stronger, deeper than before. Tony trusts him. The realisation hits suddenly, catching him off guard with its force.

Tony trusts him.

Bucky thinks about it briefly, but he can’t ever remember trusting any of his handlers, not the way that Tony so obviously trusts him. This is different, Bucky reminds himself. To his handlers, he was just a tool, an asset. To him, Tony is a person. He’s a friend. He’s something to be guarded and kept safe, not pushed and used to further someone else's agenda. Bucky knows enough of Tony’s history to know that in the past, Tony frequently had people like that around him. Bucky’s quietly glad that those people aren’t around anymore. Bucky doesn’t kill any more — hasn’t since he’d decided to leave the Soldier behind — but he thinks he might have made an exception for anyone who hurt Tony like that.

The elevator stops. The doors open. Tony slowly pulls himself upright, blinks once, blearily, and wraps his arms around Bucky. Tony is warm against his chest, his head fits nicely in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky blinks. Tony is hugging him.

“Night, Bucky,” Tony murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion. Tentatively, Bucky wraps his own arms around Tony and returns the hug, letting Tony linger in his space. He likes hugs — they’re soft and full of affection. Bucky had had a hard time processing affection when he first arrived at the tower. He was used to touch being only out of necessity. Killing, defence, maintenance. Touch wasn’t something to be shared casually. Affection was foreign to him. But it felt nice. Bucky wasn’t very good, yet, at asking for it when he wanted it. On his bad days, touch still made him edgy. He could never shake the feeling that something bad would follow. That someone wanted something from him. Today wasn’t a bad day. Today, he didn’t want to let Tony go. Bucky’s arms felt empty and cold when Tony eventually stepped back, turned, waved goodbye, and left. The doors slide closed, and Bucky lets out a shaky breath. He should be happy. Tony is going to bed, he’s going to get some sleep. Tony had listened to him. So why isn’t he more pleased?

* * *

Bucky decides that spending time with Tony is definitely on the list of things he enjoys most about living in Avengers Tower.

* * *

Tony is almost fully rested when they get the alert to assemble — thank god for small mercies. Still, Bucky resents the fact that Tony is out fighting while he’s stuck back at the tower. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Tony to look after himself, or doesn’t trust the rest of the team to watch his back. It’s just that Bucky hates feeling useless. He’d been ready to fight, to put his armour back on and grab his gun, but Steve and Sam both had gently reminded him that he wasn’t cleared for combat yet. Sam told him it was better to take his time, that sometimes jumping back into the fight too soon could be damaging. Sam is smart, but mouthy and annoying. Bucky likes bickering with him. Sometimes it’s just what he needs. He suspects Sam knows that, too, the asshole. But there had been no joking when he’d stood by Steve and asked Bucky to stay home. Bucky had agreed, reluctantly. It was worth it for the relief that spread across Steve’s face.

Before leaving, Tony had sent him down to the shop. He’d set up a monitor to play the feed from his HUD and the sound from his comms. “So you can keep an eye on me,” Tony had said with a wink before taking off. Bucky didn’t have a chance to say thank you. It’s probably better that way, he’s pretty sure the words would have stuck in his throat. But he suspects Tony understood. At least this way, he isn’t stuck wondering what’s going on out there. He watches the screen intently, only dimly aware when Dummy comes over and rests his head on Bucky’s knee. The fight looks straightforward enough. Tiny robots are running amok over in Jersey — not overly dangerous, but the little buggers seem to delight in wrecking everything in their paths. They remind Bucky of misbehaved, destructive children. It's more time consuming than difficult to deal with them, but still Bucky stays on the edge of his seat, eyes never leaving the screen. He sees everything that Tony sees. He hears the battle chatter over the comm, hears how seamlessly the team works together. He admires them. He doesn’t know how he would fit in with them, but he’s pretty sure he’d like to try. One day. Bucky thinks he wouldn’t mind fighting again, if he got to choose the cause. If he got to choose what he stood for and who he stood beside.

The battle progresses. It becomes apparent that the robots are drawn towards electricity and technology. They’re ripping at wires and lights, attacking window air conditioners, stealing camera phones from bystanders’ hands and smashing them. They are fixated and they are fast. And they can fly, Bucky realises, a moment too late.

“Tony look out–” he yells, jumping to his feet. Tony sees the robot hurtling through the air towards him at the same time Bucky does, but there isn’t enough time to react. The thing hits Tony’s chest. Another hits Tony’s face. Bucky sees their tiny, sharp claw legs digging under the plates of the armour, pulling at the wires. The feed fizzles and goes black.

“Tony? Tony!” Bucky shouts, frantic. He wishes he could reach through the screen and strangle the thing himself. Why, why is he here instead of being out there, protecting Tony?

“-ucky? It’s ok-” It’s the last thing Bucky hears before Tony’s comm drops out. Bucky is left standing in the shop, alone, weighed down by the silence. The only sound is his own panicked breath and a soft whir from Dummy.

* * *

It’s another two hours and 37 minutes before the team arrives back at the tower. Bucky doesn’t leave the shop the entire time. When Tony comes back — _when_ Tony comes back, this is where he’ll come first. To drop the armour. When he arrives, Bucky will be here. In the meantime, Bucky has a lot of time to think. Mostly he thinks about Tony, and about himself and Tony.

He’s beginning to suspect that he was wrong about what Tony needed, and the role he was meant to play. Tony doesn’t need a handler. Bucky hasn’t been _acting_ like a handler. Bucky has been acting like a _friend_. But he’s still confused. Tony has lots of friends — a whole tower of them. Still, it feels like the spot Bucky fills is different. Bucky has friends, too — he might still be trying to figure out where he fits in with them, but he also has a tower of friends. So what makes Tony different? He doesn’t feel the warm feeling in his chest when he’s around Sam or Natasha. He feels protective and watchful over Steve, but that’s also different. Tony is unique. Tony makes him feel like no one else does. Bucky is happier when he’s down here, and sad when Tony’s not around. Dimly, he’s aware of what this means. He understands what he’s feeling, from memories of Before. Of girls and guys both, of hands and bodies, of kisses traded in the shadows, or on the boardwalk. He remembers that. But that was Before. He’s having a hard time reconciling that with Now.

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted when JARVIS announces that Tony is arriving. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat, his pulse skyrocketing. A moment later, Tony stumbles into the shop, cussing loudly and shedding sections of the armour. Bucky wastes no time racing over to him, running his hands over Tony’s face and head, checking for injuries, internally cursing that the armour prevents him from checking the rest of Tony’s body.

“Whoa, hey, just wait up a second Captain Handsy,” Tony says as he drops the gauntlets on the bench. “I’m fine, Bucky, I promise. Can’t say the same for the suit. Goddamn, those things really did a number on the wiring.”

Bucky doesn’t care about the suit. He might later, but right now the suit is just a thing. Tony is flesh and blood. Bucky won’t feel even remotely at ease until he knows for himself that Tony is actually okay. Tony sheds the last of the armour and holds out his arms. “Ready for my pat down,” he jokes. Bucky doesn’t respond. He doesn’t feel like joking. His inspection doesn’t take long, Tony’s right, he’s not injured. No blood, no broken bones, possibly a bruise or two. Nothing that won’t heal in a few days. Satisfied, Bucky takes a step back and feels the knot in his stomach release.

“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” Bucky teases, eyebrow quirked. Tony laughs at that — the sound still makes Bucky almost shiver with joy, even now that he’s gotten used to hearing it.

“Come on, you love it like this,” Tony says. Bucky does, he’ll admit. It’s one of the many endearing things about Tony. Bucky chuckles, and nudges Tony’s arm playfully. A second later, Tony’s expression softens. “Sorry for making you worry. I really was fine. They just knocked out the HUD feeds and comm.”

“I know,” Bucky says, leaning into Tony’s space. He _had_ known, rationally, but it hadn’t stopped him from worrying. “Thank you for setting up the link down here. It was… nice. I liked being able to watch.” Tony is close now, in his space. One of his hands is pressed against Bucky’s chest, and Bucky is afraid that Tony will be able to feel the way that his heart is pounding.

“I like knowing you’re looking out for me,” Tony murmurs, soft. He’s so close now that Bucky can feel the breath from Tony’s words on his own lips. The next second, there is no space between them, and Tony’s lips are against his. It’s surprising, but it feels right. In an instant Bucky can reconcile all the things that didn’t make sense before. He can understand how he feels about Tony, and how maybe, just maybe, that might work with who he is now. Tony knows him, has known him since the day he arrived at the tower, hollow-eyed and barely verbal. Now Tony is kissing him. His lips are warm and firm.

Bucky gasps softly. Tony takes advantage and deepens the kiss, his tongue flicking across Bucky’s lips — god, it feels so good. Too good, too much. Bucky quickly pulls back, breaks away. He can feel the anxiety building. Affection is still hard sometimes, even though he craves it, craves what Tony is giving him. Tony must get the wrong idea because he immediately steps back, mumbling apologies. No. That’s the opposite of what Bucky wants. The panic and the emptiness of suddenly not having Tony right then is even worse. Wide eyed, Bucky steps forward, hands reaching for Tony’s hips.

“Please don’t go,” Bucky says desperately, hoping. Tony considers him for a moment. Bucky is aware of how he looks, expression pleading, fingers clinging to Tony as if he’s the only thing keeping Bucky afloat.

“Yeah?” Tony says after a moment, expression softening. Bucky nods quickly. Tony pulls him close then, tugs Bucky’s head down so it’s resting against Tony’s shoulder. Tony kisses his temple, rubs circles between his shoulder blades until Bucky calms. It’s Tony taking care of him now, but Bucky finds he doesn’t mind. His breath evens out and he pulls back to find Tony looking at him, eyes dark and intense. Carefully, Bucky slides a hand to Tony’s jaw and tilts his head up. He takes control this time, leaning in to catch Tony’s mouth against his own. Tony gasps, arches up against him, quietly pleads for more. Bucky is only too happy to oblige as he presses Tony back, lifts him onto the workbench. Tony wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist, drapes his arms around Bucky’s neck. He’s not going to let Bucky go anywhere. Bucky is definitely okay with that.

* * *

There are a lot of things Bucky likes about living in Avengers Tower, but waking up with Tony’s arm slung around his waist is probably his favourite.


End file.
